Ultracrepidarian
by spiderwebbed
Summary: A fight between Kiku and Natalya leaves him grasping for advice from the self-proclaimed Master of Love. Can Kiku smooth out the kinks in time for their six-month anniversary? [Ultracrepidarian is a word meaning 'one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.'] A/N: Pierre is France. I hate the name Francis.


_"Just give it to 'er, Kiku. She'll love it."_

Kiku looks at the silver box in his hands doubtfully. Pierre was not one he went to often for questions on love. Of course, he was going to take his advice, however shady… For one thing, his view was always over the top and extravagant in a way that Kiku could only appreciate outwardly but was less keen to imitate… That said, Pierre had always carried an air of outward confidence that made Kiku feel comfortable enough to approach him when he felt it necessary— like now, on his six month anniversary with Natalya, the week after he'd had a fight with her.

_Before_ the fateful arguement, he'd asked her what she'd wanted, but she'd only responded with a back stiffened with surprise, a single lifted eyebrow and a small 'hrm' sound before giving him the greatest gift of all… a small wry smile.

Smile.

She'd only begun to do so recently mere weeks ago, but he'd found it so surprisingly pleasant that it sent warmth to his fingertips just thinking about it. Such a hesitant, fleeting thing that passed her face and pierced him squarely in the chest. The first time he'd seen it, he'd kissed her so deeply that he'd gotten small red pinchmarks on his chest from where she'd gripped his shirt too hard to hold him close, her nails forgotten in the exchange. He muses on that for a moment as he holds the box closely and wonders if he's made a mistake. Lingerie when they haven't even consumated the relationship? Why was Pierre so keen to say that it was acceptable a apology gift in such a circumstance?

Kiku sighs aloud and opens the box, peeking at its pale pink silken contents. It's pretty but…

This is stupid.

This is very stupid.

He feels his cell phone vibrating in his pocket and hesitates to answer— it's Natalya, of course. He's the one who'd left a message for her that morning asking to meet, so it surprises him mildly that she'd called him back— especially considering that the phone had rang twice before going to voicemail… a surefire to know that she was still angry at him.

"Hello?"

_"Kiku, are you on your way?"_ He nods once in reply, then realizes that she cannot see him. She mistakes it for a lack of reply and repeats his name, her voice even colder this time. "_Kiku?_" He hastily replies aloud, but it's a beat too late. He keeps his voice light.

"I am, Natalya. I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

"…" Silence on the other end. "_You don't have to come, you know._" Her voice is so unusally subdued that he can only imagine her expression. "_In fact, don't come. Celebrating six months of dating is a silly custom and I find it a waste of my time._"

"Natalya."

"_Apparently you do as well, or—_"

"**Natalya**." His voice comes out more sharply than he intends, but it stops her from saying something he is sure she would regret— or at the very least, that he _hopes_ dearly that she would regret. Only moments ago he was thinking of the way she smiled at him but… it occurs to him that in six months, she has only just begun to smile at him. Natalya is still distant, still too cold and still too far away. "I…"

Neither of them speak on the phone.

He wants to see her.

Truly, he does.

But… he is exhausted from all of the times that she pushes him away. He's reminded of his conversation with Pierre.

"_How do I get her to speak to me? I feel like she only responds when I kiss her and that's why I don't want to have sex with her. I want to touch her but I don't want what happens afterwards. What if… after that, it ends? If I can't speak with her, then…_" Kiku had sighed and taken another taste of Pierre's most tart red wine in his wine cellar. "_What is it that I have to offer? It's only been six months but I feel as if we're not moving forward. As if we're not moving at all…_"

It was the same feeling he felt as he spoke to Natalya on the phone. So many misunderstandings when the idea is both shared and all too simple… All he wants to do is to love her and be loved by her in exchange. It would be so much easier to give in, to give up, to claim it was too difficult to go on…

However true it is that she isn't an easy person to love, he is equally certain that he is no easier to fall in love with from her perspective.

"_I don't think I can keep her happy all of the time. So what's the point?_" He'd looked at Pierre, expecting to have him stumped, but the Frenchman had laughed heartily instead.

"_Firstly, Kiku— love may be a many splendored thing you do too little and expect too much! Rather than an escape, a lover should be a warm supportive force. You need to support her."_

_"How can I support her when I can't even speak to her? What if she's still angry? What if she wants to break up? What if-"_

_"What if this… what if that… you speak too much from hypotheticals. You need to go straight to the source. Her._"

Her perspective.

Natalya's voice on the other end of the phone is clumsy and unsure.

"_Kiku, maybe we should just…_"

He's taken too long to reply, but he interrupts her before she can say it. The easy solution.

"I don't want to." He holds the phone tightly in his hand. "Natalya… I don't want to give up on us." He takes a breath. "I've been meaning to say this but... I'm sorry. I should never have tried to make you jealous."

"Jealous? _You… were trying to make me jealous?_" She sounds genuinely surprised on the other end of the phone. _"I thought that you liked... I-I mean, I though that... about me, you didn't..."_

"I could never... I was being stupid." Kiku swallows hard. "When I saw the way you acted with Toris... so comfortable, even when you scold him... I felt…" He trails off. "You have a past with him, and sometimes it feels as though you've opened up little by little to everyone but me. When I saw the way he touched your face... I felt so..." Kiku trails off bitterly. "No, I'm sorry, that doesn't matter. I shouldn't try to blame you in my own apology. I should never have flirted with someone else, and I especially shouldn't have done it in front of you with the intention of hurting you." He sighs quietly. "Please, Natalya. I... I don't want to break up."

Natalya is silent for a long moment.

"…_You're home, aren't you?_"

"I... haven't left yet, no."

"_Open your door._"

"What?"

"_I said to open your door._"

"No, I know, it's just..." Puzzled, Kiku opens his door and gapes at the sight of Natalya as she briskly steps past him. He shuts the door behind her and turns around, only to be hit with a slap that more surprises him than harms him. He blurts another apology. "I'm sorry."

"You ought to be." She pauses, doesn't meet his eyes. "You said you were on your way."

"I lied." He clears his throat, the corners of his mouth lifting, then dropping altogether. "I was nervous."

"I see." Natalya hesitates, then sits down at the low table in the front room. Neither of them speak as Natalya's hand nervously find their way into her hair as she braids and unbraids the same section over and over- until Kiku's low voice murmurs the words he wants to say.

"N... Natalya... I don't want to break up." He repeats his words to her quietly and she lifts her eyes to meet his. Her voice comes out huskily.

"You said that already."

"I meant it." He watches a ghost shiver go through her, and it boosts his confidence, making him wonder if he isn't the only one who doesn't understand his partner. Natalya's eyes wander the room and falls on the silver box on the table.

"This is what you wanted to give to me?"

"…Well…" Kiku's hesitation is enough for her. She picks up the box and moves to opens it before he has time to protest, take it from her, stop her from seeing what's inside. "…Wait, uh…" She looks at him suspiciously, causing him to let out a silent inward sigh. Granted, it does look suspicious... Kiku steps forward and tries to make light of the situation as he lifts the silken pink laced garterbelt from the box, holding the material against her wrist. "I think it matches your skintone, don't you?"

And it does, actually, quite well. A suspicious thought begins to form as he wonders how Pierre could match lingerie to someone's skin tone just by looking at them...

He keeps his voice light. Airy. Unconcerned.

But that doesn't stop Natalya from snatching the box and stuffing the lingerie in his hand back into the box with its other delicate, lacy friends, leaving Kiku with a single, lasting impression that does his relationship with Natalya much good; the knowledge that Pierre is, indeed, an_ idiot_.

It isn't until she leaves that he finally notices that the silver box has disappeared with her.

Or maybe he's not such an idiot after all.


End file.
